Icarus has fallen.
His lifeless body lies on the rocks below.
He flew too near the sun.
But still his feathers
Drift down through the sky.
They may be lifted up
By a passing breeze.
They may dance awhile
In the blue.
They, too, will fall,
As Icarus fell.
They will drift
Gently round his body
As he lies.
He will be as one
With his wings
A Prose version of the story from the Internet.
" Icarus felt himself sustained, like a halcyon bird in the hollow of a wave, like a child uplifted by his mother, he forgot everything in the world but joy. He longed for one draft of flight to quench the thirst of his captivity: he stretched out his arms to the sky and made toward the highest heavens.Alas for him! Warmer and warmer grew the air. Those arms, that had seemed to uphold him, relaxed. His wings wavered, dropped. He fluttered his young hands vainly-he was falling-and in that terror he remembered. The heat of the sun had melted the wax from his wings; the feathers were falling, one by one, like snowflakes; and there was none to help."
A modern approach to the story here:
This photo compliments your verse very well, and your verse is perfection in storytelling and conveying remorse.
HEre in Hawaii it is so hot, that the ground is to near the sun. I am melting despite being made of stronger stuff than wax!
I think I like the Greek version rather than the prose version on the internet! A nice wintery photo with icicles on the trees?
Too often we are like Icarus; seeking pleasure without thinking of the consequences.
If I gave awards for best poem from an old myth you would win hands down.
I know at 40 degree celsius you people will melt...!!!
Thank God our body parts aren't welded together in wax :)))
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